


The Sound

by Memfys23



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:48:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29126760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Memfys23/pseuds/Memfys23
Summary: While on a summer Green Peace expedition with his brother Sam, Dean has an encounter which will change his life forever.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 1





	The Sound

**Author's Note:**

> First draft of a first chapter. I haven't written anything in over a decade and I need to post to break the logjam.

“C’mon, girl. Smell the nice fishy? Hmm? Nice and fresh.”

There’s a small splash as the fish hit the water, but the sea lions took no notice of it and continued to stare impassively at Sam where he stood on the ship deck. Just after sunrise they had been swimming in long arcs parallel to the shore of the nearby island, but as the _First Green_ had drifted in closer, more and more of them had shortened their sweeps until there was an audience of several floating off starboard, watching with eerie quiet.

The fish rocked gently black and forth as it slowly sank and the sleek animals made no move to follow it.

Dean whistled. “That is some damn impressive training. Also…” He gave a quick whack to the back of his brother’s head. “The fuck you think you’re gonna keep one of those things?”

“Ow!” Sam pushed the hair out of his face on the way to rubbing the back of his head. “I wasn’t trying to catch one. I just thought I’d make friends.”

“Sure, Sammy.”

“Seriously, Dean. We live in a two bedroom walk-up. Even if we moved, renting a place with a pool would seriously stretch our budget… at least at my old job’s wages…”

“No, Sammy”

“And my car’s too small to transport for vet visits. I’d have to stick it in the backseat of – “

“Don’t even think of finishing that sentence.”

Sam grinned at the finger pointed in his face.

“You’re too easy.”

Dean huffed and returned to counting the alcohol swabs in the first aid kit while Sam continued watching the sea lions watch him.

Satisfied that the kit was still fully stocked, Dean returned it to the case on the wall and joined Sam at the railing just in time for a series of low whistles to come across the water. The sea lions attention was grabbed and they began ducking beneath the water and swimming away towards the island in the distance.

From here in the pall of the northwest, the settlement that they knew was there was a smudge on the shoreline; the small windmill floating off shore was lost in the gray.

Dean raised his binoculars and watched as the sea lions were greeted by other figures in the crashing surf. The sea lions nosed at hands and showed a playfulness that had absolutely been absent the rest of the day.

“I wish we could talk to them,” Sam said, lowering his own binoculars to push the hair out of his eyes. “Think about what we could learn about each other if we could just talk.”

“Yeah. Maybe if I throw you overboard one of them will mistake you with your girly hair as a damsel in need of rescue and sweep you back to their shack for a little ‘cultural exchange’.”

Sam punched him in the arm, hard and then went back to his binoculars.

Meeting a selkie would definitely be a highlight to this trip. In addition to all the safety discussions and the legal walk throughs (how close were they allowed to get to the actual oil pipeline, what could they take pictures of, etc.), Dean and the rest of the Green Peace expedition had been forced to sit through a seminar on interacting with any selkie that they encountered on this trip. It boiled down to don’t.

To call the selkie standoffish was an understatement. For most of history the relations between human and Selkie had been cold at best and hostile at worst. Selkie who intruded to much into human fishing waters were often chased off their settlements, forced to rocky islands that Humans found utterly inhospitable. History was also littered with the tales of ships run aground, or worse sunk with all hands after straying too close to Selkie waters.

Of course history was more complicated. There were good stories too. Drowned sailors thought lost forever returned to their home shores, lost selkie saved from circling sharks and given a lift to the nearest rookery. Careful exchanges of technology and culture over the centuries. A handful of documented cases of friendship and, even rarer, romance. Hell, the jacket Dean’s father had left him was Selkie made, passed on to John from who knows where. Decades old as it was, it still kept the rain out like nothing else.

It would be pretty cool to meet selkie. Would definitely be worth several free beers over the course of his life. But it was better not to get their hopes up. The _First Green_ was here to observe the local oil pipeline and its impacts on the non-human and non-selkie ecology. Cultural exchange was not in their mission statement and the local selkie population had made no overtures during their week here so far. They had kept distant from the ship and the divers, shifting their fishing patterns and their herds to the other side of their island presumably to wait out the expedition.

Dean and Sam watched the selkie and their sea lions splashing through the surf a little while longer and moved on when the expedition’s volunteer photographer wandered over. He left Sam to point out different parts of the landscape and the selkie rookery to Sarah while she peered through her camera.

* * *

With the exception of the mornings, the weather in Skagit Bay had been beautiful. The sun had sparkled over the deep green waters and warm breezes had moved the air just enough to keep it from being stifling without providing any chill.

Even the selkie had seemed to loosen up. Early in the third week the crew had woken up one morning to find the sea cows back in their original cove and while the raft of sea lions continued to watch the ship warily and ignore the occasional fish a crewperson tried to tempt them with, they were now joined by a gaggle of motley pelted seals who responded with much less stoicism. The seals eagerly leapt, dove, an spun and they received a rain of fish as their reward.

It had been far more comfortable than Dean had been led to believe the Pacific Northwest to be.

Today was a whole other kettle of fish. Overnight it seemed the region had finally decided to show her true colors. Rain slapped against the windows and the floor of the mess was slick with water tracked in every time someone came from outside. Rain slickers dripped water down the walls where they were hung and every glass surface fogged with the collected breaths of the crew and the steam rising from their mugs.

Sam blew on his hot chocolate and took a small sip before putting it down again.

“You want me to get you some marshmallows to go with that?” Dean asked as he slid on to the bench.

“You have marshmallows?”

Dean shook his head and cradled his own mug close to his frozen nose.

“Seriously, Dean. If you’re hoarding marshmallows, share the goddamn wealth.”

Dean sipped his coffee. Too hot, but he wasn’t gonna be a goddamn girl about it like Sam. “Shaddup. How are your talks going with the fishing company? Are they still threatening to sue our asses to hell and back?”

“They won’t give any ground, but we’re not actively interfering with any of their transports and they can’t object to any of the observations we’re taking. No activities they undertake in public waters can be considered proprietary so we’re fully within our rights to take pictures and videos and the scientists have their own permits for testing and observing in the wildlife reserve so they can’t keep our people out of the water and away from their equipment as long as we’re not actually interfering with any of it.”

“They are damn lucky you were able to get such a good stretch of time off between your old firm and the new one.”

“I’m not the only one who’s managed to impress on this trip. I was talking with Doctor Karam earlier. His wife is a physician with Doctors Without Borders and they’re apparently looking for supply logisticians. Experienced people who understand medical needs and can get shit done. I think Doctor Karam thinks you’d be a great fit. It would be a great step up in your career.”

“C’mon, Sammy. I’ve had enough of parachuting into crappy places all over the world. I’m ready to stay put for a while. Not to mention we’re gonna be in the same place at the same time for the first time in a long time. You and me raising hell and looking fabulous doing it. Just like old times.”

Sam hesitated, dropped his eyes to his mug and Dean’s heart dropped to his stomach.

“About that, Dean.” Sam took a deep breath. “The firm has an opening in the DC office. It’s better pay and it would open up some really cool opportunities for me.”

“So that’s why you’re so eager to get rid of me.” He lifted his leg and pivoted off the bench. “I need some fresh air.”

“Dean, c’mon, man, that’s not fair,” he heard Sam start but Dean was already walking away. He drained the last of the coffee in his cup, dropped it in the bin strapped to the compost bin (of course these freaking hippies had a compost bin) and wrenched open the mess door. He made his way to the end of the hall and then out under the awning. Small blessing there wasn’t a lot of wind.

He pulled a cigarette out of the pack in his pocket and leaned against the bulkhead while he held the tip to his zippo flame. He’d promised Sam and Uncle Bobby he’d quit, but quitting was a process and the other coping option of a beer would mean heading back into the galley and Sam’s disapproval.

Goddamn genius brothers. Kid couldn’t leave well enough alone. Couldn’t be happy with what he had which was already lightyears more than any Winchester had ever had before. Couldn’t resist one more rung on the ladder. The chance to get away from Dean again probably made the opportunity all the sweeter. He’d probably been spending the last few weeks looking for any bone he could throw to Dean to make it seem like it wasn’t all just about avoiding his broken loser older brother.

The glow of the cigarette was a mocking reminder of the cold outside. Dean took a long drag, held the smoke in his lungs, and then let it out in a long slow stream. He scrubbed his hand over his face and tried not to feel the dual cold of the weather and the steel bulkhead behind him leaching through his clothes. He lifted the cigarette to his mouth again and repeated the earlier drag. He could at least be grateful there wasn’t any wind.

Dean continued to smoke, listening to the raindrops clatter off the awning when he something stole his attention. He stilled, suddenly hyper aware, not sure what had interrupted his pity party when deep jingle and clank sounded over a gap in the rain. The clank came again from around the corner followed by a thud, a grunt, and then a splash. Dean pushed away from the wall bulkhead behind him and headed around the corner to the sound. As he made his way there was another clank and then a thud again, followed by another.

Dean stopped at the top of the stairs leading down to the stern deck, feeling the cigarette drop from his suddenly gaping mouth.

There, in the pouring rain, slumped on the deck, a smaller form clasped in his arms, blue eyes boring into Dean’s soul, was a selkie.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if this is worth continuing.


End file.
